Chapter 10 – The Pact of Flame and Hunger
Axel's fingers trembled as he cradled the Ember-Fox pup in his arms. The heat of the creature's small body pulsed against his chest, its delicate frame fragile in comparison to the fire that seemed to burn within it. There was something deeply resonant in the bond he felt—the crackling fire of magic from the pup, intermingling with his own aura in an almost symbiotic way. It was a connection forged not by the laws of nature but by something older, more primal.
The ritual had already begun, but it felt as though it was not fully realized. Axel could sense the residual warmth in the air around him, the smell of herbs and flame, the flicker of energy in the very room. He could feel the tug of magic pulling him in, urging him to move forward with the bond—to commit to the ritual that would seal this pact once and for all.
His heart raced. The act of taming a beast was an ancient rite, one that required both the ritual and the sacrifice. It was not just about using a creature as a tool or a weapon—it was about forming a true partnership. It was about understanding that both sides must yield and trust the other, creating an unbreakable connection. Axel knew this deep down, even if he had no experience in the art.
But this bond, this Ember-Fox—it was different. There was something raw about it. Something wild. And for the first time in his life, Axel felt like he was facing something beyond his control, something that could change everything he had come to know.
"I don't know if I'm ready for this," he muttered, glancing down at the pup. Its ember-colored eyes flickered, as if hearing him, acknowledging the uncertainty in his voice. Yet, it didn't pull away. Instead, it shifted, moving closer, pressing its small body against his hand. Its warmth seeped into his skin, and a steady, rhythmic pulse seemed to throb within the core of the creature. The flame of its heart—perhaps even the flame of its soul—was trying to reach him, connect with him. There was no fear in its movements, no resistance.
It was trust.
Axel took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. This moment—the quietness that enveloped him, the weight of responsibility, the promise he was about to make—was monumental. He needed to be sure. The slums weren't kind to those who acted without resolve. He had always been a survivor. He'd learned the rules of the underworld long ago. But this—this was different. He could feel the power surging within the Ember-Fox. There was potential here, raw and untamed. If he forged this bond, it would not only be a partnership; it would alter the course of everything.
"Alright," Axel muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "Let's do this."
The Ritual
The first step was clear: ingredients.
Axel had scoured the slums earlier for anything that might be used in the ritual. He didn't have a lot—just what he could gather on the streets, what he could barter for with the leftover scraps of mana boar meat he had from the previous day. His most important find had been the Ashroot, which was rare even among the poorest inhabitants of the slums. It had a deep, earthy aroma that carried the heat of fire in its scent. He could feel it in the air as he peeled the root into thin slices, preparing it for the stew. This herb, a survivor of the wilds, was perfect for the ritual—an offering to the fire that burned within the Ember-Fox.
The ritual wasn't just about creating a dish—it was about emotion, about intent. The ingredients weren't mere sustenance; they were symbols of the bond Axel hoped to forge. Ashroot would represent the fire, the Ember-Fox's spirit, and its essence. The herbs—the cinnamon, ginger, and the rare herb Axel had picked from deep within the ruins—would be the backbone of the stew. Together, they would create something that bridged the gap between beast and human.
Axel had learned to cook using instinct, but this time, it was different. This time, the dish would not just please the stomach—it would speak to the soul.
As he set the ingredients into the pot, he realized that the preparation was more ritual than recipe. He had to carefully combine the herbs with the right timing, the right focus. It was about control. Every chop, every stir was an act of intent, an act of devotion.
Once the Ashroot was finely cut and added to the bubbling broth, Axel felt a shift in the air. The heat around him seemed to intensify, as if the very room itself was responding to the ritual. The Ember-Fox watched him intently, its little ears perked, its body tense with anticipation.
"Come on," Axel whispered, more to himself than the creature. "This is what we need. It has to be enough."
He dropped a few dashes of cinnamon and ginger into the pot, allowing the spices to swirl into the mixture. The aroma filled the air, a complex blend of heat and earth. He could almost feel the connection between the Ember-Fox and himself growing stronger. It was a strange sensation—like a knot tightening in his chest and at the same time unraveling. He was feeding more than just the creature. He was feeding the bond, feeding the magic.
And then came the final ingredient—the Ember-Fox's essence.
Axel reached out and, through the bond, summoned it. It was a delicate process, drawing from the pup's innate fire, coaxing the energy from the very center of its being. Axel closed his eyes, letting his own emotions meld with the fire of the Ember-Fox. He could feel the warmth rising, like a living thing, curling around his thoughts, twining itself into his spirit.
When he opened his eyes, the essence had materialized in the form of a glowing ember-like liquid that danced in midair, shimmering with an energy that seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of the beast. Axel watched it with awe, mesmerized by the sight. Then, with steady hands, he dropped the essence into the bubbling broth.
The stew changed instantly. The color shifted to a brilliant orange, and the entire room seemed to grow warmer. The fire within the Ember-Fox flared, its energy now merging with the dish before them. Axel knew it was complete.
The Pact was ready to be sealed.
He took a step back, feeling the sweat on his brow as he stared at the steaming bowl of stew. It was as if the very air around him had thickened. Every movement felt like it was happening in slow motion. The room was heavy with magic, the bond now anchored between him and the creature.
The Ember-Fox stirred, its eyes glowing fiercely in the low light of the stall. Axel's pulse quickened. It was time.
"Eat," Axel commanded gently, though there was no doubt in his mind that the creature would do as he asked. This was their moment.
The Ember-Fox hesitated only for a second, its little body trembling as if testing the waters. But then, as if instinctively understanding, it lowered its head and took a tentative lick of the stew. The warmth of the essence seemed to envelop the creature, the fire in its eyes intensifying. It took another bite, and then another. Axel watched in silence, his heart pounding in his chest, as the creature devoured the offering.
The bond tightened.
And then, after the last bite, the Ember-Fox raised its head and licked Axel's hand—slowly, deliberately, with a softness that made his breath catch in his throat.
The ritual was complete.
Axel felt a surge of warmth rush through him, a heat that spread from his chest outward, as if the fire within the Ember-Fox had become part of his own. The bond had been sealed. The pact had been forged.
He took a deep, shaky breath, feeling the weight of what he had just done. This creature—this fire-born companion—was now part of him, and he, in turn, was part of it.
But as the warmth of the bond settled into him, Axel became aware of a presence. A chill crept through the air, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. His instincts kicked in, and his eyes flicked to the crowd around the stall. It was only then that he noticed the cloaked figure standing in the shadows. The figure's face was obscured by the hood, but Axel could feel their gaze—sharp, calculating.
The figure didn't approach, but their eyes—dark and focused—locked onto Axel. The Ember-Fox's eyes flickered, reacting to the presence, its fur bristling with the fire that had been awakened.
Axel didn't flinch. The slums were full of people watching, calculating, waiting. But something about this figure—something in their gaze—felt different.
The figure's lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile before they turned, disappearing into the crowd. Axel's heart skipped a beat.
Elyria's voice came to him in a low whisper, tinged with concern. "That was no ordinary person, Axel. You've made a mark on the slums. Be careful."
Axel glanced down at the Ember-Fox, feeling its fire radiate against his skin. The world felt different now, charged with an energy he had never felt before.
The slums had just noticed him. And the game had changed.
This was no longer just survival.
This was war.